


The Spare Room

by scarlettshazam



Category: South Park
Genre: Aftercare, Aged-Up Character(s), Dom Tweek, Dom/sub, Domestic, Fluff and Smut, Hand Feeding, Kink Meme, M/M, Nasty boys in love, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Praise Kink, Restraints, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, Sub craig, Top Craig, Yes you read that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 23:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15084485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettshazam/pseuds/scarlettshazam
Summary: A South Park kink meme fill for the prompt, "praise kink!!!! any ship"Craig and Tweek have a spare room. It's a special place.**REPOSTED**





	The Spare Room

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work reposted from another account (thepinupchemist/scarlettshazam)

In high school, this seemed so simple.

The pain began innocently enough: a yank up on Craig’s hair while his boyfriend’s cock was in his throat, a harmless swat to his ass when he didn’t move fast enough for Tweek’s liking, a bite that left teeth marks in Craig’s shoulder for more than a day. They upgraded when they moved into a dorm at CSU together, to handcuffs and belts and sometimes toys – anything that they could get their excitable eighteen-year-old hands on.

Craig loved overstimulation. Loved restraint. Loved being at Tweek’s every whim, used for the purposes that Tweek wanted to use him for. College, of course, was the ideal place to explore the wild shit they’d only ever jacked off to in the safety of their childhood beds as horny teenagers.

Now adulthood reigned over their lives. Tweek managed a hip café in an up-and-coming (read: gentrified) part of the city and headed a local chapter of UFO hunters, while Craig worked the front desk at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science and secretly lusted after the research positions more qualified individuals snatched up in moments. They shared an apartment just outside of Denver proper, a cramped thing; as the burgeoning economy and flood of new residents drove up the real estate and rental prices, they could only afford so much.

Craig loved it, though. He loved their little hidey-hole, from the elaborate guinea pig mansion in the living (the centerpiece), to their comfortable, outer space-themed bedroom (complete with alien lamps and a galaxy bedspread), to…this.

_This._

A shiver rolled along Craig’s spine, and his hair stood on end in the cool of the spare room. _The spare room_ , they called it, as though they welcomed guests and it came with a seashell-themed bathroom attached (it didn’t). The spare room housed, instead, a treasure trove of dirty things – their toys, their restraints – fucking bars bolted into the ceiling because Tweek liked trussing Craig up in elaborate rope patterns, suspending him, and leaving him to suffer for hours on end.

This evening’s scene proved more simplistic than that.

Tweek had a rough day at work, probably.

What happened went like this: Craig arrived home, shed his hoodie and flung it over the back of the couch, and had time only to say, “Hey, honey,” before Tweek had his jaw in a vice grip. He yanked Craig into a vicious kiss, all teeth and tongue and no tenderness. He bit down on Craig’s lip hard enough that the sting sang all the way from his swollen mouth to the inside of his boxer-briefs, erection thickening as the pain trembled through him and painted the world in perfect, sharp clarity.

“Strip,” Tweek said, and Craig obeyed. He always obeyed Tweek.

He was good, like that.

The moment that the last of his clothing fell away from his body, Tweek gripped his neck. Bony, frigid fingers forced Craig down the short hall to the spare room.

“Kneel,” Tweek snapped out, voice rough around the edges, liked he’d screamed himself hoarse.

“Um. Where should I –” was all that Craig managed to get out.

His boyfriend seized him and shoved him onto the bed.

“ _Kneel_ ,” he repeated.

Between his legs, Craig’s cock throbbed, his balls tightening. Nothing revved his engine like Tweek in a _mood_ , so angry at the world that he needed to bring it home and unleash it on Craig’s body, using him up and spitting him out until he was nothing but a shaking skeleton.

Tweek locked a spreader bar between Craig’s ankles and fastened leather cuffs around his wrists. He looped the cuffs over the bolt sticking up from the headboard – another addition he’d made, so that he could leave Craig waiting, centered on the bed.

And wait Craig did. Tweek left him there, naked and surprised, his wrists and ankles locked up so that the most he could do was shuffle on his knees. No position was quite comfortable, and nothing lay close enough to rub up against, so his neglected erection found no friction. Elsewhere in the apartment, he heard the clank of glass on glass and the hiss of the kitchen sink. Tweek had found something better to do than pay attention to him – perhaps cooking dinner or filling the dishwasher.

Fuck, what Craig would do to be filled right now.

He whimpered, and the pathetic noise echoed through the empty room. The sounds from the kitchen carried on as Tweek remained oblivious to Craig’s plight in the spare room. Naked, cold, and harder than a stone, he waited.

And waited.

Craig drifted, his head dipping to swimmy as his weight began to sag. The cuffs held him upright where they looped around the bolt. He didn’t go all the way slack. No, he wanted to be good for Tweek, so he knelt as best he could, and stayed still. If he just stayed still, Tweek would come back, and would see how good he’d been.

“Look at you.”

Craig twitched in his restraints. Light from beyond the door flooded the room, and a long shadow spilled out in the frame.

Tweek.

“You’ve been so good for me, haven’t you?” crooned Tweek, “You can talk. It’s all right.”

“Yes,” Craig rasped, “Please. I’ve been waiting.”

“You have, haven’t you? All this time, and you’ve been here, just for me.”

“Just for you,” Craig agreed, from some vague place beyond the soup of his brain.

“Do you want to know what I did, while I left you here?” Tweek asked, voice trained and casual.

“Yes,” whispered Craig, “Tell me.”

“Good boy,” Tweek praised. The mattress sagged behind Craig, and a cold palm stroked along his back, rubbing gentle circles over his tired muscles. “I’ll tell you what I was doing – I did some chores. First, I cleaned the kitchen. Then, I fed the pigs. After that, I laid in our bed and I fingered myself.”

A strangled moan tore out from Craig’s clenched teeth.

“Yes, honey, make those pretty noises for me,” Tweek encouraged, “You’re so good at that.”

Another helpless sound rumbled out from deep in Craig’s chest, wounded and animal. The ability to form words seemed a distant thing, too much to bear in the moment. Tweek understood – he always understood.

“I got my fingers all slick,” Tweek went on, “and I opened myself up. Do you want to know why? Of course you do, good boy. After I turn your ass red, I want you to fuck me. What do you think about that, hm?”

A bead of sweat rolled from Craig’s temple down the side of his face. He mewled – there was no better way to describe the noise that poured from him – and canted his ass back. Whatever Tweek gave him, he would take, and he would be glad to. That was how this worked – Tweek never gave him anymore than he could take, and Craig would take it all because –

“Good,” murmured Tweek, petting a hand over Craig’s sweaty hair, “You’re so perfect for me. Just look at you. You’re beautiful, did you know that?”

Heat flushed Craig’s body, from the apples of his cheeks to his chest. Sometimes, the words of his Dom were hard to believe. _Beautiful_. He wasn’t – was he? Tweek said he was, so it must have been true. He, Craig Tucker, was beautiful.

“You’re so ready to take anything that I have to give you, aren’t you?”

“ _Yes_.”

The word escaped him in a hiss, a soft, broken syllable.

Craig could hear the grin on Tweek’s face, the way that it split his face, the impish sexuality ever-present as he rubbed a gentle palm over the curve of Craig’s ass. He stroked his thumb over the skin, back and forth, and said, “Count for me, honey.”

A crack echoed throughout the room as the first hit landed. Craig’s body jolted forward with the force of it and heat and pain spread from his right ass cheek, spreading like tingling lightning bolts over his flesh.

“One,” he said, and clenched his hands into fists.

The next two came in quick succession: one smack on each side, not as hard as the first impact. These were mere teases for the pain that would come, warming slaps to make way for what Tweek was truly capable of.

“Two,” Craig counted, “Three.”

The blows had no rhyme or reason. Tweek mastered the art of spanking long ago, and no matter how many years that they spent together, Craig would never understand what pattern Tweek played on him, if he employed a method at all. Tweek’s unpredictability made him an excellent Dom, an inexhaustible well of creative new positions, bonds, and bites.

Craig mustered the voice to count the spankings, but only just so.

“Seven. Eight.”

The next blow landed with a _crack_.

“Nine,” Craig panted.

Sweated soaked his hair, beaded on the back of his neck and slid down his chest. The effort to stay perched _just so_ for Tweek’s plan to be carried out strained his muscles, stretched his limit, but he stayed put, stayed in place just so that he could hear the words of praise that dripped from Tweek’s tongue like honey.

“You’re incredible,” Tweek told him, “Can you take one more, just for me?”

Craig nodded, his head heavy between his shoulders.

“Say it out loud, honey.”

Craig swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yes,” he said.

The smack resounded through the spare room, the loudest of any. Pain cascaded over Craig from his ass up, made his brain fly out from his skull. He soared, high above it all, unwilling to come down for anything but Tweek’s firm voice and loving words.

“You were so beautiful, taking that,” Tweek said, “Now I need you to keep being a good boy, okay? You’re so good. So perfect. I know that you can do it, Craig.”

All at once, Tweek shifted away from him, leaving cold in his place. Craig whined, and Tweek reappeared in front of him. He knelt in front of Craig’s sagging body and cupped Craig’s face in both hands, bringing him up for a gentle kiss. He stroked back a damp lock of Craig’s hair and said, “I want you to fuck me. Do you think that you can do that for me?”

Craig nodded again.

Tweek stroked his hair. “That’s great. Now use your words.”

“Yes,” Craig breathed.

Yes, because he would do anything, _anything_ , to be Tweek’s good boy.

Tweek reclined on the pillows and bent his knees out, his slick hole winking in the light from the open bedroom door. Craig couldn’t move right, and Tweek knew that – he wriggled down and steadied Craig’s neglected cock with one skillful hand. With a slow, awkward scuttle, Tweek positioned his body at the tip of Craig’s erection and, with a long exhale, pressed down.

Tight heat engulfed him, his every sense narrowed down the sensation of Tweek sinking down onto his cock.

When he was fully seated, Tweek commanded, “Now fuck me.”

Bliss flowed over Tweek’s face when Craig jerked his hips forward, the static, buoyant sensation carrying him through every movement of his body. They fucked slow and languid, Craig’s motion limited by his restraints. The leather chafed his wrists as he drove his hips forward into Tweek, watching emotion melt over his face, the stress bleeding from Tweek’s body as it had bled from Craig’s.

“You’re so fucking incredible,” Tweek said, “You’re so good at this, did you know that? We don’t do this enough. Not that I don’t like bending you over, because I love the way you take cock, honey. I love the way you give it, too. Ngh – ah. That feels amazing. You know how to do it just right, don’t you?”

Craig redoubled his efforts and rolled his hips with more force, rocking the spare bed against the wall as the slap of sticky skin on skin filled his ears. He lost himself to the rhythm, to making certain that Tweek got his pleasure.

Below him, Tweek wrapped his fist around his cock and jacked as Craig thrust into his gorgeous body, so pink with exertion. Tweek blushed with his entire body, from the tips of his ears all the way to patches of pink on his chest and abdomen. Craig relished the times he could make Tweek flush everywhere, to fill him with heat, because that meant he’d done his job.

With a strangled cry, Tweek came onto his stomach, ropes of come spilling out over his fist.

“Whenever you want,” Tweek gasped, “You can come whenever you want.”

Craig refocused on fucking into Tweek, on the way that Tweek’s wet body surrounded him, that perfect heat constricting around him. Feeling built in his abdomen, thick and thrumming, soaring toward orgasm.

When it came, Craig’s orgasm crashed around him. He went limp in his restraints as he filled Tweek’s body with come, weight tugging down. Exhaustion pounded through alongside the pleasure, so much so that Craig was barely aware of Tweek moving out from under him, the warmth of his body gone as he shifted to unlock Craig’s ankles and pull the cuffs off of the bolt in the headboard, releasing his wrists in smooth, crisp gestures.

“Sit tight, honey,” Tweek said, stroking long fingers through Craig’s hair, shifting it back into a less-sexed place against his forehead, and kissed the side of his head. Craig whined, unable to form the words _no, stay_ , like he wished he could.

Tweek kissed Craig’s head a second time and said, “I’m coming right back.”

Craig curled in on himself when Tweek’s shadow retreated from the spare room, shivering in a fetal position in the center of the bed, but before the cold gave way to the panic of being alone after a scene, Tweek returned and dumped several things on the bed: a fuzzy blanket, a bottle of orange juice, bags of snacks, and a washcloth, which he plucked up and ducked to the bathroom to get wet.

Tenderly, Tweek mopped salt and sweat and come from Craig’s used-up limbs. He manhandled Craig into the blanket, then sat cross-legged on the mattress beside him. Tweek pulled Craig’s head into his lap so that his cheek rested against his thigh, still warm. Craig nuzzled into his side.

“You did so good for me,” Tweek said, “I need you to keep being good, okay? My good boy, right?”

“Your good boy,” Craig agreed, albeit weakly, and pressed his nose into the side of Tweek’s belly, where he pushed a kiss.

Tweek cracked open the orange juice first and directed, “Open.”

“Ugh.”

“Open your mouth, honey,” Tweek said, “You need to eat and drink.”

Craig obeyed, because what else could he do? He let Tweek pour orange juice into his mouth and swallowed. What didn’t make it into his mouth, Tweek wiped away before he set the juice aside on the spare room nightstand, and reached for a packet of fruit snacks. It wouldn’t be dinner, but it was something, and Craig knew he needed it to recover.

Tweek praised him when he put the first fruit snack against Craig’s lips with a gentle, “You’re amazing. I know I say that a lot, but I mean it, and you deserve to hear it. You’re so good for me. Eat, please.”

Mechanically, Craig chewed. He didn’t taste the food, not really, but the act of Tweek putting food in his mouth and making sure he ate suffused him with warmth and affection, down to the core of him.

Tweek smelled sharp and musky, but familiar, and so Craig curled as best he could into his side, sore and full and swimming. Tweek petted his hair and Craig leaned into it.

“My good boy,” Tweek murmured, and Craig knew that it was true.


End file.
